


Grey

by GhostHost



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Megatron is working towards a lot of things, Moving On, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Reflection, Starscream just wants to keep what he has, past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-13 00:39:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10502823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostHost/pseuds/GhostHost
Summary: Megatron and Starscream are not good people, and they were worse together. That doesn’t mean they can’t become better people, or have successful relationships. They can, but they both need to acknowledge and actively work past their issues. That doesn’t dismiss their prior actions, nor does it absolve them of their faults. They were shitty, they knew they were shitty, and they were super shitty together.But the world’s not black and white. It’s gloriously painted in a grey wash, and in that grey are people who were shitty and are working to no longer become shitty.For them, this is start of that processes.





	1. Megatron

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had a few conversations about parallels between Rodimus and Starscream, as well as the not-really-mentioned relationship dynamics between IDW Megs and Starscream, specifically in their current positions in IDW. Somehow some Starjack got in the mix, but otherwise this fic popped up out of those conversations. 
> 
> General Warnings: So if the summary wasn’t pretty explicit enough for ya, this fic goes into some of the details of a previous, physically/emotionally/etc abusive relationship that is identified in this fic as abuser/abuser (rather than some of the other kinds of abusive relationships.) It does not redeem either of those characters, but they do both acknowledge their past in their own ways and attempt to move past it and to better themselves. It details mental trauma from the prior relationship including carrying some of that trauma into a new relationship, avoiding relationships (platonic and romantic) entirely and trying to make amends (sort of). 
> 
> Specific warnings: Mentions of abusive/toxic relationships, PTSD, panic attacks, injuries, and general asshattery. 
> 
> As a whole this fics really tame, but I know the topic itself can be squick-y for people so here’s your jumping off point.
> 
> Final (I promise!) side note: I refer to Magnus as still being third in command even though Drift's gone because I have a silly headcannon that Rodimus keeps trying to slot Megatron in that position, (and their duel positions as Co-Captains pretty much takes away the need for a SIC anyway. )

“Everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly.”-Counting Stars, One Republic

* * *

Command meetings aboard the _Lost Light_ was a form of torture, Megatron was sure. A punishment, from both Prime and Primus, for all he’d done.

He still wasn’t certain he hadn’t just  died and gone to the pit, most days. It was certainly a possibility. This whole set up seemed like a karmic set up for some kind of afterlife punishment. Particularly today, considering the way Rodimus was carrying on.

“These are all things we _need!_ ” The red mech declares, one hand slapping down against the table. It was the apparent dramatic finale to the endless stream of words falling out of his mouth--except no, it wasn’t, as Ultra Magnus disagreed, and thus, restarted the entire tirade.

“What you _need_ is for someone to put you in your place.” Megatron mutters. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, not really, and sure enough Rodimus picked up on it. The red mech spun, a single accusatory figure stretched out.

“Yeah!?” Comes the yell, switching conversations effortlessly “Then why don’t you do the honors!? Put me in my place. Come on.” He’s stalking forward, red plating flashing and for a single moment, he looks so much like Starscream that Megatron’s body automatically preps his arm cannon. It’s no longer there, of course it isn’t, but his body tries anyway, sending charge rushing down his arm. Megatron redirects what he can and dispels the rest, but he knows Ultra Magnus at least has caught him out. The mech had straightened in a hurry after Rodimus’s shout, and was looking more alarmed by the second.

If only to give peace of mind to the only other sane mech on this ship, Megatron remained seated and allowed Rodimus to tower over him. Or rather, try too.

Just because you stood above someone didn’t mean you intimidated them and there wasn’t a spark in the room who thought Megatron was intimidated for an instant.

“Have nothing to say, old mech?” Rodimus was leaning into his face now, hands going to his hips. His plating flashed again. This close Megatron realized there wasn’t an inch that wasn’t carefully waxed on the bot before him.

_‘Plenty._ ’ Megatron thinks, trying to avoid his reflection staring at him through Rodimus’s plating. Aloud he says; “No. Now sit down and tell me how you plan on getting the funding to get all these items you require. _Without_ taxing the crew.” It was a classic if not painfully obvious misdirect. Rodimus latched onto it with enthusiasm, excited at the prospect of showing Megatron up.

The warrior let him rant, feeling his age suddenly, like heavy hands on his shoulders.

He didn’t know how much longer he could do this.

xXx

There was someone knocking at the door.

Megatron onlines his optics, years of Starscream’s murder attempts haunting the back of his processor. Making him cautious even when he _knows_ who's knocking.

There is only one person who bothered him so late into the recharge cycles on this ship.

Megatron doesn’t move, refuses to acknowledge him. Rodimus will go away soon enough.

He doesn’t though, instead pounding incessantly and sending a flurry of pings to Megatron’s comm. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants-something both he and Megatron define differently. Because Rodimus won’t be getting what he truly desires-but he will be getting to see Megatron.

It’s a draw for both of them.

He signals his hab door to open and is promptly blinded by the amount of shine radiating off of his Co-Commander. Rodimus has a tilt to his hip and a pout painted across his face, looking exactly  like a vision from the poetry Megatron used to write. Not his published ones, or the ones published later, once people learned his pen names. No, Rodimus looks like he sprang from the joke pieces Megatron penned while cratered at the bar for a quick laugh, passed around to Impactor and other friends to mock. Pieces featuring  a mech too beautiful, too smart, too witty. Never wrong, never failing. A perfect creature, dainty in one instant and fiery in the other, yet always falling for some clumsy oaf.  

The real thing standing before him can _actually_ burst into flames and that’s part of the attraction. Part of the draw Megatron is absolutely never responding to, because he’s already been burned by someone like this. He’s lived this future and the way it turns out--the things he _did_ \--

That thought breaks the quiet spell Megatron didn’t realize he’d been caught under and spurs him into action before Rodimus can crack whatever cheesy line he’d been planning on.

“I am not sleeping with you.” Is pretty to the point, isn’t it? Megatron hopes so, because that’s just what fell out of his mouth. I am not sleeping with you, and then; “--And I never will.”

Rodimus’s pout falls away instantly. “Why not!?” He shrieks, abruptly furious.

“Because I don’t make the same mistake twice.” Megatron says. No fire in his voice. No fight. Just a firm calmness. The door closes on Rodimus’s shocked face, the former Prime nearly drowning in outrage and confusion.

“We’ve never even interfaced before!” He yells as his parting shot. Megatron ignores him, because of course Rodimus would think he meant himself. Not a different mech--one so similar it ached sometimes.

It was as though Starscream’s younger self had been transported to the future and took up host in a different body. And all  Megatron could do was promise, up, down, left and right, that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. That he wouldn’t see the light in those eyes die, turning into something long lost and frozen over. See that cunningness wasted on revenge and desperate murder attempts.

Megatron wasn’t sure of himself a lot these days. Wasn’t sure how he strayed so far from the original plan all those years ago and wasn’t entirely clear how he’d ended up back to where he’d begun, on frail footing with dangerous ideas (and a new, undying self-hatred.). The one thing, of all of it, that he _was_ clear on was that certain things were to _never, ever_ be repeated.

Even if he has to involve others to stop himself. Even if he has to drink fool’s energon for the rest of his days.

So this? This thing with Rodimus? It was not going to continue. Megatron wouldn’t let it continue.

Tomorrow, he was going talk to him. Away from their positions as Captains. Away from the crew.

Tomorrow he’ll give a lesson and hoped to Primus Rodimus heard it, instead of running off to find someone else. Even if it hurts to talk about it all. If Megatron can change one thing in Rodius, can prevent one future from ending up in the twisted thing he and Starscream created, then it’ll all be worth it.

Even if he has to face part the part of his past he’s done his best to forget.

xXx

Is a relationship still abusive if you both abuse each other?

_‘Stupid fool, of course it is.’_ He thinks in disgust. _‘You know it is.’_

It was amazing how hindsight could show you the toxicity. Show you how trapped you really were, caught in a cycle that you could break at any time, but didn’t. Show you how truly caught up you were. In getting revenge, in forcing hurt and pain. To the point where  you saw nothing but that, and wanted nothing more than suffering. For you or your partner, it didn’t matter. What you did came right back around to you.

Now’s not the time to think on it though. Not like that. Megatron has the rest of his life to reflect on all that.

Rodimus is walking next to him, annoyed at being called down to an unused part of the ship. It’s away from all the others, but not too far that he might feel threatened. Megatron’s careful about that kind of thing these days. Never being alone with most mechs. Never looming over them.  No fast movements, or growls, or displays of temper. No show of temper at all, if he can help it.

Rodimus is defensive. His arms cross his chest, his helm tucked down and he glares like he wants everything to burn--except ‘everything’ in this case mostly just meant ‘Megatron.’  

He’s finally fallen into silence, having already given his token protests and it's finally the ex-Warlord’s chance to get to the point of this meeting. To explain a few things.

Which of course, was the exact minute Ultra Magnus decided to show up.

Their Thirds pedes strike loudly against the floor, the ringing sound announcing him purposefully before he appears around the corner and Megatron holds up a hand to him knowing he wouldn’t have interrupted if it wasn’t serious. This though--this was more important and Megatron isn’t sure if he’ll get Rodimus back down here a second time. He doesn’t want to do this in front of Magnus, but he knows the mech won’t leave unless one of the Captain's comes with him.

Magnus understands the raised hand as the gesture Megatron meant it to be and halts next to them, staying quiet. Megatron uses his silence to finally, begin.  

“I had a lover just like you, once.” He drops his hand and looks at Rodimus, directingthe smaller mechs attention away from Magnus. ”Ambitious. Talented. More so than anyone I have ever known, at everything he tried his hand at. Academics. Science. Politics. Fighting. He was as proud as you are, Rodimus.  And it was that pride, the refusal to admit anyone could ever be better than him, that was his greatest downfall.”

“Why?” Sneered the former Prime. “Did you kill him for it?”

Ultra Magnus grimaced, his hand automatically going to the gun holstered on his side. He was expecting a bloodbath, but Megatron simply noted his behavior with a thoughtful look.  

“He was better at goading me than you are, too.” He said after a thick moment. Rodimus bristled-Megatron could actually see armor flare in insult.

Primus was Rodimus young.

“No.” He continued, interrupting whatever else Rodimus was going to throw at him. “I didn’t kill him. He leads Cybertron now, and he flinches when he hears my name.”

He wondered when exactly that had happened. When they had stopped being a united front, when they had  turned on one another. When had Starscream started to go behind his back? When had he started to try to turn others against him, de-throne him, kill him? When had things escalated from simple displeasure and arguments to the blow-out fights that damaged the seeker on a good day and nearly offlined him on a bad one?

The timeline was fuzzy, but Megatron’s actions were clear as day. What had been done.

What he had done.

He had a lot to repent for.

Rodimus was gawking, apparently both shocked and greatly amused at the admission of Starscream being his lover. He’d no doubt spread the news around the ship and Megatron expected to hear snide comments by the next morning. He belatedly wondered why the Autobots would bother to make a deal of it, there had been rumors he and Starscream were involved for centuries.

Rumors and hard video evidence.

Megatron wondered if Autobot high command had kept that tidbit to themselves or if their spies were just that bad. He knew for a fact those videos had been all over his own army. He hadn’t cared-he’d been the one to leak them. It’d been a power play of course, as Starscream had threatened to leak them himself and Megatron had done it first to cut off his legs and change the entire tone of how they were received. To carefully edit them so Starscream appeared to be the weaker half in the video. It had worked wondrously and Starscream still no doubt heard comments about it to this day.

But that wasn’t what this was about.

“The point is that Starscream let a lot of things get in the way of his goal.” He ignored the fake-whispered “Yeah, _you._ ” and kept talking. Magnus had no doubt winced again at that, but Megatron found himself oddly unable to look at him. It was easier to focus on Rodimus. To pretend Magnus was not here. “He destroyed himself to achieve it, and the mech you see now is not the one who started his journey. I am forewarning you not to make his mistakes. To be smarter than he was.”

“Oh that’s not hard. To start with I won’t be sleeping with you.” Sharp words, and meaningless, considering Megatron had thrown out the speedster from his quarters last night.

“Good.” Megatron replied, which was not the reaction that Rodimus wanted, but too bad. “I suggest you continue making decisions such as that. Starscream got what he wanted in the end, but at a price that I do not believe was equal to what he gained.”

Rodimus snorts at that, a horrible human habit, made worse because Cybertronians aren’t meant to make such noises. “Is this all you wanted to talk about? How I can be a better leader just by not letting you frag me up?” Rodimus turns, dropping his arms to stare Megatron in the face. “You talk about how Starscream failed but we all know his biggest failure was staying with you.”

True. Absolutely true, and Megatron knows he’s going to have to take responsibility. Was--but it’s not coming through, doesn’t sound like it and that’s fine. Rodimus might think it below him to admit he’s wrong but where Megatron is at, with the guilt eating him alive like it is, it’s no problems to announce his own failures.

“What I did to Starscream was unforgivable, Rodimus--and it’s part of the point of me telling you all this. You have the same spark he had, at the beginning. Unlike him however, you have the chance to achieve greatness. You have the chance to make something of yourself and you can do it without relying on others.. You do not need others forgiveness, permission or approval, Rodimus. Looking for it the same way Starscream did  will only get you caught up in someone else who will  not have the best intentions for you.” That’s met with silence and Megatron figures it’s earned, if nothing more than the implication of how he was that person Starscream sought those things in--and thus, was the same person who destroyed them.  “I’m telling you all this so you can learn from us. So you can become a better leader by avoiding the pitfalls we fell into. Pride and vanity destroyed us, destroyed the Decepticons. We lost our cause the second we stopped listening to each other. Your cause still exists. Your people still trust you.”

That got somewhere--Megatron can read if off Rodimus’s face. He won’t likely admit it--and doesn’t--but relief let’s Megatron’s joints ease because this was all worth it.

“Whatever.” Is the red mech’s reaction, after he realizes Megatron is done talking. “Like I would _ever_ be like you,” Rodimus’s snarl isn’t as sharp as it had been, but it is there. The smaller mech intends it as a parting shot and Megatron allows it, like he never would have before. Let’s rodimus stalk off without another word.

He watches Rodimus go and hopes something, anything sank in. Hopes that a spark, some sort of idea that will help went somewhere within the almost-Prime, in a way the actual Prime never quite understood.

He’s surprised when a heavy hand falls on his shoulder--he’d forgotten Magnus’s presence entirely.

“He’s not acting like it,” His Third says quietly, “but you got through to him.”

“One can hope.” Megatron answers, field honest. He doesn’t let it out--ever, had completely trained himself of using his field to convey his emotions at all but he’s been working on letting things slip through. On being more, what had Rung called it? Readable.

Something like that.  

“No need for hope.” Magnus drops his hand. “Just time.” A pause--and then right back to business.  “It appears the issue I came to fetch you for has been resolved. We are no longer required on the bridge. As it is still Rodimus turn…”

Megatron waits, expecting, well. Something related to the _Lost Light_. Some sort of paperwork, or needed revision. Likely another meeting. He wouldn’t mind one right this second, Magnus’s presence has a calming effect on him and though he will never admit it, he’d like company right now.

That isn’t what comes out. What Magnus says instead is entirely unexpected. “--would you care to play a round of chess?”

Megatron stares at him, trying to discern if this is a joke. It isn’t much like Magnus but then, there were a lot of things mechs were capable of when no one was looking.

“After everything I just said, you want to play chess?” Megatron says, trying to feel the larger mech out. He doesn’t think his hesitation could be read but Magnus surprises him again.

“I am--was--a judge, for Tryst.” The mechs field is hesitant as it careful inches forward towards Megatorn’s. An offering that the former warlord carefully accepts. “Actions always speak louder than words. Your actions here show a true desire for change. Show your guilt. So yes, I’d like to play chess with you.” The fingers on his shoulder return to squeeze lightly, an act that can almost be called affectionate. “Captain.”

Blunt honesty comes through loud and clear, through Magnus’s field. Stronger than how most mechs fields would intone but it oddly fits the mech it’s coming from. A touch socially awkward, but full of truth.

Megatron gives a small smile for that, once again thankful for their Third. “I would be delighted to play a game.” He says, then adds a quiet; “Thank you.”

For once, he means it.

xXx

He’s been working on some things, with Rung’s assistance. Of course, ‘assistance’ isn’t exactly the word Megatron uses in his helm, but he has to hand it to the little therapist. The mech is the literal definition of the phrase persistent optimism.

(He’s also never once shown fear of Megatron and for that, the ex-Warlord remains in his debt. Commanding is difficult, when the vast majority of the crew fears and hates you, and having another friendly face besides Ultra Magnus’s, even if it is fake, has done wonders for Megatron’s sanity. Rung of course, has insisted his friendliness is not the least bit false. Megatron in return has complimented him on his poker face.)

The point was, Megatron’s been given some things to work on. For himself, apparently. He thought most of it silly, but a part of him is terrified of what he might turn into if he doesn’t do _something._

So when they make a return trip to Cybertron, Megatron carries out one of Rung’s suggestions. With a bit of his own twist, of course.

Starscream doesn’t know that he’s here. Likely thinks he won’t come off the _Lost Light,_ after all that’s happened. Perhaps he thinks he’s safe, that the guards won’t let Megatron close. He rules this planet now, after all. He’s become the invincible thing he’s always wanted to be.

Crown and all.

In all honestly Megatron shouldn't be here. He doesn’t belong here. Not like Starscream does. The seeker won’t appreciate the gesture. He needs to make it though-for himself. For his own peace.

It will be his last selfish act as the Decepticon Warlord. One he thinks Starscream might need, even if he knows this is mostly for his own benefit.

He waits until Starscream’s alone.

Or mostly alone. He’s careful of Starscream’s reputation. The thought nearly makes him laugh because in the old days the only worry he had toward his second’s reputation was how to further damage it. Starscream was brilliant at defending his own title, at proving his worth-it had been why he had held his position for nearly the entirety of the war. Starscream hadn’t needed someone to protect his reputation.

Megatron does it now though. For this, he needs to.

Starscream won’t let himself be alone. He’s smarter than that. But eventually the evening winds down and Starscream, with the Autobot’s mad scientist and that idiotic Camien in tow, allows himself to be led into a hall while entertaining guests. Important ones, Megatron’s certain, for Starscream to be willing to be led away from the party like this. He’s not far, not really, and the parties mostly died down anyways, but it’s far enough and they both know it.

He approaches while the Camien’s distracted.

Starscream’s back is to him and he turns with a smirk when he feels Megatron’s presence. The smile comes right off his face as he looks up-Megatron can feel the moment his old SIC realizes who stands before him. Terror lights up his field like lightning-there’s so much of it his optics briefly white out. It vanishes as quickly as it  appeared, Starscream recovering himself with a snarl. His fist is raised instinctively, but he’s forgotten his new form doesn’t have null rays.

Megatron’s honestly amazed he gave them up.

The seeker tries to recover, turns it into an uppercut, but Megatron’s faster. He catches Starscream’s fist and holds it, absorbing the hit and aborting the movement so that his old SIC’s fist is raised near his face.

“Lord Starscream.” They’re words he knows will freeze the seeker-if not because of his perceived audience and the reminder that he is in the public eye, but because Megatron himself had spoken them. “ I never congratulated you.” Starscream’s locked himself in a near panic that only their time spent in each other's presence allows Megatron to see. He tries to keep this short, while packing it with everything he can’t say aloud.  “Allow me to do so now.” He doesn’t say what he truly wishes too-that Starscream has earned this, because Starscream will assume it is mockery, or a threat. Everything he says will be taken that way, in fact, so Megatron simply stops speaking. He bows his helm instead, lowering the arm he holds out in front of him, bending over Starscream’s hand and kissing the back of it.

For the briefest moment he reaches out his field to touch Starscream’s. The seeker’s field is pulled tight against him and so as to not intrude, Megatron just brushes over it lightly with his own, but it's enough to convey what he truly means. An honest congratulation, pride, sorrow.

An unspoken apology.

He rises, nods once, and turns to take his leave. He doesn’t look back but he knows Starscream is staring.

And just like that it finally felt over.

_‘Now, I can finally begin to accept peace.’_


	2. Starscream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Finally, fuck. This is primarily from Starscream’s POV, but it is bookended by Wheeljack’s. 
> 
> Specific Warnings : Mentions of past abuse/toxic relationships, alcohol, PTSD, panic attacks
> 
> I am not repeating the general warning, but it still stands.
> 
> Pairing is Wheeljack/Starscream (Starjack)

I ain't got many friends left to talk to

Nowhere to run when I'm in trouble

You know I'd do anything for you

Stay the night but keep it undercover

...

I don't want to lose your love tonight

\--Your Love, The Outfield

* * *

Megatron departs as quickly as he came, leaving behind more confusion and tension in less time  than anything Starscream has ever managed.

 Wheeljack’s gaping behind his mask. Windblade, who’d missed all but the last of it looks desperately between the former Decepticon Commanders, trying to piece it together. She takes a few steps, as though to run after Megatron (why no one knows) before Chromia comes over, distracting her. Starscream hasn’t moved an inch, optics tracking Megatron until the mech is around the corner.

Wheeljack steps up, close enough that his words aren’t overheard. “Are you okay?” He expects to be brushed off, for the seeker to sneer and shake himself out of it. He doesn’t though. Instead, Starscream turns, optics blown wide.

He looks at Wheeljack and his field _shatters._

Wheeljack’s fins flash red/black in pain and he flinches, throwing his helm back. It doesn’t help, he had stretched his field out to bump the seekers in concern  and had taken a direct hit. “Primus!” He grunts, stumbling.

“What happened!? Are you okay? Was it Megatron?” Windblade asks suddenly right back near him and Starscream. Wheeljack looks up amazed, because _can’t she feel that?_ Except he can't feel it anymore either--Starscream’s field had gone flat.

The scientist’s first thought is to call for a medic, because that much emotional pain and terror must have fragged something up. He’s never had another field hurt him before, didn’t think it possible, but the sheer amount of contained in Starscream’s--that’s something he’s never encountered. Something he shouldn’t have encountered.

“Please.” Starscream rasped, optics shining unnaturally bright and voice slightly higher than usual. “That fool has outlived himself. He has nothing left to use against us.” He appears unmoved, unharmed, blank faceplates giving the air of interference.  

 _Wrong._ Wheeljack thinks. _Wrong, wrong, wrong._ How can he lie like that? How can he act so calm when he’s anything but? Wheeljack knows what he felt! Yet Starscream recovers, faster than Wheeljack can, and turns on his heel.

“Come.” He snarls. “We have a party to attend to. I won’t let him steal my spotlight!” And just like that he’s off, wing’s held high in pride, helm held higher. Winblade follows, casting a concerned look over her shoulder, Chromia trailing after her.

Dazed and concerned, audio feed ringing in backlash, all Wheeljack can do is follow.

He’s off balance the rest of the evening. He’s got a job to do, or rather, one Starscream assigned but he can’t help but be distracted from it. By distracted by Starscream. Trying to examine him, trying to puzzle him out and by the final end of the evening, Wheeljack thinks, he finally has his answer.

It isn’t a good one.

xXx

“You can’t be serious.” It’s spoken quietly, with an undercurrent of anger but Wheeljack expected that. What he hadn’t expected was the _excuse._

“This project is extremely important. It has to be finished. Tonight!” Starscream argues, pose and airs all gone now that the event has ended and the four of them are alone in Starscream’s--well, it’s not exactly a castle, but something of a similar sort.

“Starscream we just spent half the night at your stupid party. We’re tired, we’re going home.” Chromia looks ready to murder, Windblade exasperated next to her. Starscream crosses his arms with a sniff of his vents.

“Of course you two idiots wouldn’t understand. You have no care for how quickly these things must be dealt with!” Starscream’s wings rise in anger and Wheeljack’s spent enough time to read the warning signs.

The ruse is a little harder to see, but then, Wheeljack’s cheating a bit there.

“He’s right.” The ‘stang cuts in, “I’ll stay up with him to finish it, but it should only take the two of us. The both of you should go and recharge.” Chromia and Windblade shoot him a disbelieving look almost in unison. He smiles tightly in response. (Not, of course, that they can see that. It’s not the first time he’s thankful for his mask. It won’t be the last.)  

Starscream blinks back his own surprise--or at least Wheeljack thinks he does. The seeker’s field’s remained flat since Megatron showed up. Wheeljack’s slightly concerned he damaged it. It’s difficult to tell but as much as Starscream had kept him close the last few days, Wheeljack can see how unsettled the seeker is. Nevermind what he had _felt_...

“Well it’s certainly nice to see one of the Autobots finally taking an active role.” The words are sneered, laced with sarcasm and insult. Starscream’s glaring, back straight  with his arms crossed. Posed as always.

The tips of his wings are trembling.

“You sure?” Windblade asks. concerned. Her optics relay a slightly different message, one Chromia has no problems voicing.

“You really want to stay, in the lab, with _him?_ ” The blue femme jerks a thumb at Starscream  who rolls his optics. The tone says she thinks Wheeljack’s off his processor. He thinks he might be, but not for the reasons she does.

So he nods. “Yes. Unfortunately for all of us involved, he’s right.”

He isn’t, but that’s neither here nor there. Wheeljack’s almost curious to see what kind of project the seeker can pull out his aft that could possibly warrant this big of a rush.  He knows not to underestimate Starscream, particularly when it comes to appearance, and it’s not much of a surprise when Starscream does in fact, have such a project.  

Well.

Sort of.

It’s the kind of project that’s need-to-know and _does_ require immediate attention--but could also easily be left to the morning. Not something most mechs would consider needing overnight action. If presented to Windblade or Chromia it might fly, but Wheeljack’s worked on projects of all multitudes his entire life. He would’ve outed this as an excuse for attention even if he hadn’t felt Starscream’s upset.

He doesn’t say anything though. They have something between them, scientist to scientist--and, Wheeljack thinks almost begrudgingly, friend to friend. They have something neither of them really likes airing or drawing attention too as well and part of him thinks it’s that thing, that weird bit of attraction between them, of given vulnerability, that’s prompted this whole farce.

Starscream knew Windblade and Chromia would protest and leave. Just as he knew Wheeljack would stay.

He’d have felt his own field hit Wheeljack’s, after all.  

So Wheeljack plays his game. He stays. Mostly to see it play out--how Starscream will spin it all. If part of it is worry well, it’s like he keeps telling himself.

Someone’s gotta worry over Starscream. It just looks more and more like the jobs fallen to him.

Wheeljack vents a sigh as the seeker smirks and and waves condescendingly at the femme’s retreating backs. Starscream keeps the attitude, the haughty sneers and loose wings even after they’re gone. Wheeljack doesn’t pester, doesn’t even ask a question. He just does as Starscream instructs, starting on a project they both know this isn’t something that is needed ASAP.

They’ve done this a few times, or at least, Wheeljack thinks they have. He’s been tasked to work on projects with Starscream before that made no sense--unless you looked at them like desperate attempts at a reason to be together.

Starscream doesn’t like admitting he needs people.

Which is why the ‘stangs not really betting on an explanation, in any form.

Wheeljack spends the time thinking. Of Megatron and Starscream. Of rumors, and things command has spoken about when drunk. Of things Starscream himself has hinted at, of how the seeker reacted tonight. Not with a sense of victory, but with fear.

Absolute and total, panic-stricken _fear._

Starscream never had a normal life. Wheeljack doesn’t need to be a historian--or Jazz--to know that. He knows Starscream’s upbringing before the war was rough because he encountered the seeker a few times  at the academy. Heard the rumors that swirled around him then.

Before and after Skyfire disappeared.

Megatron was the result of their diseased society. If it hadn’t been him who rose it would’ve been someone else and as much as Wheeljack  believes in the Autobot cause, he’s never shied from the truth.

Optimus Prime’s method of change was too slow.

There was always going to be a war. Never had Wheeljack thought that it would’ve lasted this long, caused this much devastation, but the war itself was inevitable. Things had gotten too crazy. To restricting and tight and _mad._ Plain mad. A revolution was required.

Megatron had been charismatic back in the day, and Starscream had always been cunning. Too smart for his own good.

Jazz and--well everyone-- liked to trash talk ‘Cons on a good day but Starscream and Megatron were always at the center. They liked to laugh and snort and throw out lines like “We absolutely can move energon today, Megsy and Screamer are too banged up from their last spat!” in meetings. The abusive nature to their relationship was probably the most widely known secret,  (right behind said relationship) because things really were planned on whether or not the two ‘Cons were physically capable of reacting to a threat that day. If they were too busy fighting each other to notice a few things the ‘Bots did.

Unlike the others though, Wheeljack had never found it funny. A relationship like that was never funny. Not really. Not when you thought about it.

“Why do you think Starscream stays?” He’d brought up once, not too long after he’d been promoted to Command and his answer wasn’t something he wanted to hear.

“He’s got no where else to go.”

He knew better than to say what he wanted too-- _’Why don’t we give him a place, then?’--_ knows too many hold personal grudges against the ‘Cons and the seeker specifically. Accepting a defector was always a challenge but one so high up? Who had done all that Starscream had?

The weapons, and destruction and death--yeah.

Wasn’t even a thought that crossed most mech’s minds.

Starscream wasn’t a good person. Wheeljack didn’t need to remind himself of the fact. He hadn’t been a good one before the war and he wasn’t one now but really, who could count themselves as one, these days? When everybody, NAIL and warrior alike, had killed people?

Wheeljack didn’t think he was a good person. He didn’t think anyone beyond a few specific sparks could truly be counted.

It’s just what war did.

Sure, Starscream was more of a jackass than most but, did any of them have a right to judge him anymore? Wheeljack couldn’t even count how many deaths his weapons had a hand in. If anything his own kill count could rival the seeker’s if not top it.

It was a conundrum he;d found himself encountering more and more. Not just because he was scramblin’ for a way for ‘Bots and ‘Cons and the rest to get along, live together, but because he the whole thing was thrown in his face on a near daily basis. By Starscream.

By his feelings for Starscream.

It’s that thought that distracts him, as it always does because he really doesn’t want to admit he has said feelings. He wants to shove it down and make excuses and pretend the entire train of thought never happened, and in doing so he mistypes a specific command key. A command key into the main computer.

The main computer that controls the rooms various safety systems.

The lab door locks with a thump and a click, the green light above the door changing to red.

Starscream whirls at the noise. Wheeljack’s halfway into voicing an apology when he spots the seekers optics--wide, panicked--and registers the blasters a moment later.  He isn’t sure when Starscream  picked them up, or where they came from, but he see’s them right before they fire.

Purple lasers go spewing into the door, grouping together in a clear pattern--head, spark, legs and arms. All in nice little groupings that are clearly made for a mech of Megatron’s size. Megatron’s exact size in fact--Wheeljack has the schematics memorized. For uh, reasons.  

Finally it stops.

Starscream’s vents are practically shaking his whole body. He leans, gripping a table, one blaster dropping from his hand. He clutches the other so hard Wheeljack thinks he hears a servo crack. The ‘stang’s gaze travels between the door and the seeker and back, a slow loop and the fear is back in Starscream’s field. Strong enough for Wheeljack to feel it, all the way over here.

No point in even trying to make an excuse there--it’s obvious it was Megatron Starscream was shooting at. Which meant a number of things--most of them centering around Starscream’s mental state and just how terrible his and the ex Warlords relationship really was.

“Primus.” Wheeljack  says into the sudden silence, shock making him lose all tact. “What did he _do_ to you?”

xXx

“What did he _do_ to you?” And they both know he means Megatron.

A topic that is entirely none of Wheeljack’s business.

“How _dare_ you!” The words are on the tip of Starscream’s glossa, right with the instant outrage and transformed claws.  He doesn’t know if he voices it, too busy drowning in emotions. For a split-second he moves to attack. Forgetting himself, letting his rage take over.

Then his processor kicks in, reminds him that this is _Wheeljack_ and he aborts the lunge as it starts, turns and rakes his claws down the table instead. He returns to gripping it, the act a lifeline, drawing huge swaths of air through his vents.

Wisely, the mustang doesn’t move.

 _‘I don’t know what delights me more,’_ Megatron snarks in Starscream’s head, speaking from a long ago memory, _‘Watching you lose control, or seeing you pretend you had it to begin with.’_  It was punctuated with a few other comments, rising from often-ignored memories. Remarks on how irrational seekers were, snide mentions of Starscream’s personality.

Statements made to humiliate him in front of the army he was in charge of.

 _‘You did this to me.’_ Starscream thinks, with a great amount of venom. _‘You made me like this.’_

Except Megatron hadn’t--and Starscream knew it.

“Starscream?” Wheeljack asks, a world of questions hidden in the seekers name. He opens his mouth to answer--to snap and snarl and tell his bought scientist to fuck right off--but nothing comes out.

That’s…

Interesting.

Silence grows, drawing the moment out into something _very_ awkward and finally Wheeljack decides it’s enough, because he starts inching towards the seeker like he might blow up at any second. Which-- isn’t wrong of him really, and that’s almost funny, in a hysterical-might-be-losing it kind of way. Starscream’s still trying to talk, to tell Wheeljack he’s fine, concern is un-needed and for _Primus sake stop looking at him like that!_

Except nothing is coming out.

He’s lost his true power, his silver tongue, his exquisite charisma and all that’s left is a mech desperately trying to keep together. It’s all he can do to to remain still when Wheeljack inevitably reaches for him, and he can’t control the flinch when the scientists hand gently lands.

 _‘You couldn’t hold real power if it was handed to you,’_ Megatron’s voice purrs and that, finally gets him going. Because Starscream’s trained himself to respond to that voice, that threat. He knows what to do when faced with _him._

“Leave.” He bites out.

 _‘Stay._ ’ He thinks, and hates himself for it. For this craving. For  knowing that Wheeljack isn’t Megatron even when he’s this far gone in his own head and having what he absolutely classifies as a public breakdown (because even one person could spread a rumor, could snap a picture and things would be all over the base-city-planet in a matter of seconds and Megatron would laugh and laugh and--)  

“If you really want me to go, I will.” Wheeljack says, voice utterly calm, like they’re talking about a science project.

Then he waits.

Starscream waits with him, trying to straighten himself out enough to talk without embarrassing himself. The words that should come out, that he wants out, are things like “Absolutely” and “You could not possibly believe you are wanted,” and the ever clever “Fuck you, fuck off.” He’s got a bad feeling that _other_ things might come out right now, things that should never, ever be spoken and for someone as charming as he is, who relies so carefully on social grace and manipulations he knows he can’t screw up now. Knows he will damage his position as Ruler if he does.

A position he will never knowingly jeopardize.

Wheeljack is respected. Wheeljack is a known ally, and Wheeljack’s word will be believed over Starscream’s own, at least at a public level. A tantrum is nothing new. The seeker has made sure of it. Neither is a fight. If Starscream can tip this mess into either territory it will be fine, it’ll all be fine,  he will recover and there the problem lies because he’s gone back to being _utterly unable to talk._

 _‘See? I never did have to_ try _to sabotage you. I just  had to wait until you do it to yourself.’_ And ugh, why, why, _why_ does the voice always sound like Megatron? Why can’t it be _anyone else?_ Primus he’d even settle for Skyfire and that’s an entire dimension of problems he’d rather not face.

Wheeljack takes in the long silence, (along with Starscream’s hunched form) and, finally makes another decision. Starscream wildly hopes he doesn’t get used to doing that, because it will absolutely be short lived.

The scientist hooks a hand on Starscream’s shoulder, murmurs a quiet “Come on, let’s sit down.” Gives a gentle tug in the direction of the lab couch.

Starscream let’s himself be guided to it, a beat up thing styled poorly after some of Earth’s own. Wheeljack settles him gently and Starscream hates it, hates how the scientist is acting like he’s made of glass, like he might explode, like he cares--

 _‘Because he does care. That’s the whole reason why you picked him to be your confidant.’_ Which is also an unwanted thought that brings up too many other things Starscream’s done his best to ignore. That thought’s not spoken in Megatron’s voice though so Starscream clings to it, follows it down the rabbit hole even though he hates it.  Hates how he can’t stop comparing Wheeljack to Megatron, or  the two of them to Skyfire. How he had to change his personality, even at the beginning, even in little ways, for his two former lovers and never once for the mustang. How the building thing between them was natural and accidental while his former relationships were calculated. Planned. He’d known what he wanted, who he wanted, and he’d gotten them, even if both had ended poorly.

With Wheeljack he knew nothing. Not how he wanted to precede or where he wanted to go or if he could even _have_ another relationship.

 _‘Poor Starscream, too damaged to move on?’_ Megatron says, voice coming back as though he never left, and Starscream jerks because that memory, that tone is right on the nose.Wheeljack feels it, of course he does, he’s all but cuddling the seeker he’s so close, and sure enough he takes a stab in the moment.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Starscream.”

It was a pathetic out, but an out. Starscream’s  no stranger to those, nor was he above taking them. Not if they saved him.

Except whatever has his glossa still has a hold, making things no doubt come out--wrong. The worst kind of wrong, the kind that will ruin him. More than he already is.

“I know.” He snaps, more on autopilot ( _‘ha’_ ) than anything, and that finally brings him somewhat out of the daze. He takes stalk himself over and wonders if he can claim he was poisoned--wonders briefly if he _had_ been poisoned, but knew it was just Megatron.

It was always Megatron.

Even when he wasn’t anywhere near him. Even when he wasn’t directly involved.

This time he had been though and Starscream’s spent the remainder of the evening trying to wildly guess what the Warlord was up too. Starscream won. Megatron had acknowledged  it and yet it didn’t feel like he had. Didn’t go like it should have, like Starscream had fantasized about. It felt like a joke, like a plot, like this wasn’t over and just wrong, horribly wrong and that sinking feeling was back in his spark.

Panic spun in him, kept off his face only through sheer power of will and decades worth of practice. Nevermind the mixed emotions he’s has about Wheeljack,

The scientist is  just, so different. Than anything Starscream has ever expected--ever experienced. He turns to look the Autobot in the optics, see’s the truth in them. Wheeljack knows it’s an out. Is offering it up.  Is expecting Starscream to take it.

He also wants to hear Starscream’s side and well, this isn’t the first time the seeker’s slipped up around him so why not?

 _‘You said someone had to know the truth. Why not make it the entire truth?_ ’ His own inner voice whispered, the one Megatron’s voice kept trying to take over for and that was it. The final deciding factor.

“I’m going to need a lot of high grade.” He says and blinked when he realizes he has said it aloud. It’s the true though. He’s not going to get through this sober.

Which is how they end up in one of Starscream’s Suites.

He’s pacing now, threats back in his throat, the time it had taken to get here allowing him to have second thoughts. Come down off his panic. Really think about if he wants to do this--but it’s like he said to Wheeljack before. He has to tell someone, doesn’t he?

Someone deserves to know.

 _‘You want someone to know.’_ Corrects that awful, baritone voice and Starscream shakes his head, trying to dislodge him. From his head. His spark. His life.

Wheeljack just plops himself down on a different (Cybertronian styled) couch. Sips the high grade he was offered. Waits.

Watches.

He’s smart, Starscream reasons. Wheeljack knows what will happen if he speaks of anything the seeker tells him. How ‘accidents’ can happen. How far Starscream will go to defend himself.

_‘Not like it’s a great shock to the world that you’re a coward.’_

Starscream drinks until Megatron’s voice is gone (and his own along with it.) Then he drinks some more because he’s kept this inside for so long it almost hurts to let it out now.

Wheeljack’s politely nursing the same drink when Starscream finishes his fourth and it’s while he pours himself a fifth that the seeker takes the plunge.

And where better to start but the dead center of it.

“We were in love.” He says it dully, flatly. With none of the emotion that had driven their relationship--none of the adoration-turned-hatred that had kept driving it, straight to pieces.

He downed the highgrade so quickly it’s hitting all at one and that makes this all easier. To force the words out. To say what needs to be said.

For a lot of reasons, but mostly ones he doesn’t want to admit to.

“I think,” He says a little loopy, “I think sometimes we still are. In a twisted way.” Like that wasn’t horribly obvious. “I think it’s why he never killed me.”

 _‘Well that and the sex. The rumors were on the mark there,’_ Starscream thinks with an audible giggle and oh yeah.. He’s wasted now. If there was ever a plot to take him out, now would be the time to act. Primus, he’d welcome an assassin, even! Long as they left Wheeljack alone. Poor mech doesn’t deserve--

_‘You.’_

\--anything nasty.

“It took a lot. To be with him.” Starscream continues because it’s all coming out now, whether he wants it too or not. “To keep his attention. To stay worthy of him. He had a million mechs falling all over him, fighting for him and I had to be the best or I couldn’t keep him.” There’s a smile on the former air commander's face, a sad one. “He said that wasn’t true. At the start.” He finally looks over to Wheeljack, making the optic-contact he’s been avoiding since they arrived in his suite. “He lied.”

Here comes the true fun part. The part where Starscream knows things go sideways. “I’ve always been jealous. I don’t know if I was worse about it then-- or now.” The smile turns self deprecating. “Jealously always made me do weird things, things I shouldn’t and I know, I know but.” He shrugs, the words out of control, his own actions beyond him. “I couldn’t control it when I realized my worries were real. That he could be taken away from me--that he could throw me aside.”

His thoughts jump and  the conversation, if one could call it that, jumps right along with it. Starscream can only vaguely hope some of things makes sense. Makes things clear. “I can’t really pinpoint where it--where it--where _things_ went horrific, physical, mad.” Where they’d both gone violent, where they both hellbent on sending the other to the medbay, caught up in plotting murder. “I just knew I followed him. I always followed him.”

Which was the truth, at the center of it. Starscream’s been asked before why he stayed. Why he “let” it happen. Why, why, why. As if he didn’t know others knew. As if he wasn’t aware his and Megatron’s relationship problems weren’t the forefront of the Army’s gossip mill. As if he had no idea what he was involved in was an absolute mess.

“I knew I shouldn’t. Follow him. I knew I had to stop, that he was ruining us, the Decepticons, our cause but--” Oh and here was the hardest part, the part he’d been drinking for, “--so was I.” Starscream can’t remember when he managed to sit down, besides Wheeljack but he has, so he opens his field, to let the other feel his honesty.

“I would have been a more effective leader. I am one.” He  corrects immediately, raising an arm, to indicate not just the room they sat in but it’s meaning, it’s place of status. “I was _meant_ to rule.” Which he means, with a near fanatical belief. “But I could not control the ‘Cons without him. Through--some trials--I knew they would not obey me without him or his blessing at least, and while I tried I also--” Another hard smile. “I suppose I couldn’t kill him for the same reasons I couldn’t leave him. I loved him.”

Even though he wanted-wants-to kill him. Even though Starscream's terrified of his presence. Even though Megatron had ripped him apart, torn him to shreds, verbally, physically, mentally. Through all the baggage he pretends he doesn’t have, Through it all, their worst failing had simply been to refuse to let the other go. To keep hurting the other, to keep trying to force the other to bow.

“I was just as wrong as he was, in the end.” It’s whispered because it hurts to say. To admit. Things look so much different in hindsight, when the emotion isn’t riding you. When things aren’t desperate and the answer’s longer so clear. They’d been so caught up that neither of them could stop.

Couldn’t even think of stopping. Ever.

Not until they’d been forced too.

“He hurt you.” Wheeljack says, because he’s not as drunk and he can follow the conversation better than perhaps Starscream can right then.

“We hurt each other.” Starscream corrects, trying to sound haughty but falling flat. “I don’t know how either of us made it out.” There’s something worse he has to say though, a reason he poured a fifth drink. He takes the final sips of it and realizes that as drunk as he is it’s still not enough.

Not for this last piece.

He’d been smart enough to put the mixings on the table in front of them and it takes nothing to reach and and make another. To chug part of it. He takes a vent when he can, then raises his helm.

Looks Wheeljack dead center.

“I’m not sure I won’t do it again. With someone else.” He says.

Scientist stares at Seeker, and the latter can see the wheels turning, processing that. That Starscream is providing a warning and an offering all in one.

“That’s up to you, isn’t it?” Wheeljack says, picking his words carefully.

Starscream’s faceplates feel tight. “I suppose so.” He says. His wings droop with his optics, until he’s staring at his lap and wishing he was anywhere else. Someplace where things are easier.

He repeats it with a sigh, almost wishing saying it twice would make it finale. “I suppose so.”

xXx 

Starscream was absolutely plastered.

Wheeljack had known it, but hadn’t really acknowledged it until Starscream practically folds in on himself. Says a few things absently--about Megatron and relationships and himself. One of them being;

“I’m ruined you know. So it’s okay.”

Wheeljack feels guilty, for letting it happen. He’s been so absorbed in the whole thing, in this weird, honest ( _hurting)_ Starscream he hadn’t taken count of how many drinks the seeker had. Not until it surpassed ‘way too many.’

 _‘Ruined’_ The scientist internally repeats, with a bad, _bad_ feeling. “What’s okay?” He asks aloud, desperately trying to navigate this mess. Trying to connect the dots, as he had been, for a while. Some things he hadn’t wanted to connect, some bits he’d figured out only due to his old command level clearance and a faint memory of Spec Ops’ tales.

Hearing the rest of it from Starscream himself is hard. He knew it was going to be hard but seeing how Starscream reacted, in such a raw way (a way allowed only due to Megatron’s appearance and what had to be two bottles worth of high grade) is difficult. Like looking at a project you couldn’t fix, an explosion you couldn’t control.

Starscream’s gone back to looking at him, as he’s done on and off all evening. His face has gotten progressively more open and now it looks positively _wrecked._

His answer is likewise, full of brutal honesty. “That you don’t want me.”

Oh fucking Primus _shit._

Just as Wheeljack knew that this was where this was all headed, that this was why Starscream was telling him all this, why he trusted him, he knew he was gonna mess it up.

Starscream said it himself. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of not hurting--physically, emotionally, mentally--another partner. Wasn’t sure if he was healed or would be healed from all the things Megatron had put him through. Things he had done, to Megatron.

At least here, Wheeljack knew the seeker understood it wasn’t one sided. That he’s done a significant amount of damage himself, even if Megatron absolutely had been the worse aggressor. That was progress-- of a kind.

His thoughts vacated for a moment as he looks at Starscream--the real one, (finally the real one, no bullshit at all) and decides if it’s enough for him. If it was worth a shot.

If Starscream was worth a shot.

“It ain’t that.” He says, because there was no use pretending he wasn’t tentative--or unwilling. “It ain’t me.” He reaches forward, across the space separating them. Takes the seekers hands. Prays Starscream remembers this in the morning. “It’s you.” He says softly, with as much truth as he thinks the other can handle.

“I’m willing to give this a try,” which surprises him, because up to that very moment he wasn’t sure if he actually was, “but I need to know that you’re in it too. That you want it, that you want to fight for it, and that you want to do your best knowing we’re going to be dealing with each others baggage.” A slight squeeze. “That this isn’t some political game or ploy.”

“Is it one?” He asks, when Starscream doesn’t answer.

“No.” The Seeker says, field still open, still honest. He frowns, as he says it, as though it’s unexpected and which was about as good an answer as Wheeljack was going to get.

“No.” He he repeats, and looks like that’s all the answer he needs.

“I know how you are,” Wheeljack continues, carefully. Oh so carefully. “About appearances. And obviously we’d need to talk about boundaries and issues n’--things. But that’s all I’m asking you to do Starscream. Talk with me. Communicate with me. Treat me as an equal in the relationship.”

Starscream head bops in a nod, slow, optics glassy.

“I--I can do that.” He says.

“Alright.” Wheeljack leans back, spends a moment looking at the seeker. “ Okay. If you’re serious about all of it, comm me in the morning.” He waits a moment to let that sink in, before checking his chronometer.

Way past time to go. 

Then he rises, stretching out the kinks in his back, stretching up to try and ease the aches.

“You’re--leaving?” Starscream slurrs, wings fluttering uneasily. Wheeljack turns slow to look at him.

“Yeah. You need help to you berth?”

“No.” Starscream frowns, the response sounding more automatic than anything. He doesn’t get up though, and Wheeljack only waits as long as is polite before nodding to him and heading out the door. He knows the seeker. He tries to physically help him, he's going to end up with an elbow to the face. So he doesn't. 

“Again, if you’re serious--or if you need help, comm me.” He gives Starscream a grin over his shoulder, his mask tucked away long ago so his mouth is on display. It’s that grin that makes him realize he’s not so sober himself (what the hell was in that highgrade? Moonshine?) and maybe that makes leaving easier because he does not, for one second, think that this (extremely) drunk talk has changed anything.

Not for a second.

Starscream isn’t going to change. Hasn’t changed, he doesn’t think, in a long time. He likes the seeker but he’s got no faith and it’s that thought he ends the night on as he walks out the door. All this has proved is that they both have feelings, and those feelings are going to make Wheeljack do something real fragging stupid.

Maybe, potentially, make Starscream do the same.

Maybe.

Depends on if he ever gets that dunk again. 

 xXx

Three days later and Wheeljack’s not disappointed. He’s not. He knew Starscream wasn’t going to take him up on his offer. Knew the seeker was going to want to forget the whole thing. That was fine. Wheeljack could handle that. The talk was more about coming to terms with the end of Starscream’s and Megatron’s relationship than anything, really. That whole bit tied to _their_ potential relationship was just a blip at the end.

A blip he knew Starscream would regret. 

He had done what he needed to do to give Starscream a much needed outlet and he’s proud of that. Proud Starscream trusted him enough to tell him. Proud he got to say what he needed to in the end and that’s all he can ask for. He can’t force Starscream to do anything else.

Forcing Starscream, Wheeljack thinks, has caused a _large_ number of issues in their war.

So sure. He’s totally willing to cover for the seeker. Pretend this never happened. Get on with life.

Except Starscream won’t talk to him.

At all.

He won’t acknowledge, has redirected all of Wheeljack's calls (work ones included) to either an inbox or to Ratrap and _that’s_ a little annoying. So annoying in fact that Wheeljack’s about to storm his Not-Castle and tell him to get over himself. He’s interrupting work, for frag’s sake!

He was on his way to do just that, marching determinedly out of his lab and down the hall, when a service drone sweeps gracefully in from the opposite side. Wheeljack frowns at it, because it’s blatantly not one of his. Frowns harder because he has a security system that would make Red Alert--well, not comfortable, but mildly alright, but one that absolutely stops random drones. Which pegs the question, how did it get in here? 

The drone comes to a halt before him, and it’s then that the scientist see’s the glossy present dangling in it’s arms.

It says a lot about his personality and general hobbies that his first thought was bomb.

Nothing happened though, when he shot the drone out of the air with his a hidden pistol, or when he ducked behind a bunch of junked equipment sitting in the hall. 

Nothing continues to happen for long enough that Wheeljack gets up, and starts scanning the package. It’s small, with real paper and a gaudy bow. There’s a tag on the side and carefully, after a lot of scans determining it wasn’t going to blow at least--Wheeljack picks it up and reads it.

It doesn’t say a thing.

Frowning, the scientists scoops the broken drone up and carries both back to his lab. The drone because he could fix and reprogram it. The package so he could perform enough tests to absolutely make sure it wasn’t going to kill him.

Starscream wasn’t the only one with baggage around here.

An hour later and Wheeljack’s convinced enough to open it. Inside is just as plush as the exterior--wealthy in a way that could only come from a handful of mechs. 

Not, that he has to guess hard at which one of those mechs might have sent this. 

A handful of gel candies circle a piece of equipment Wheeljack’s been searching high and low for, and it’s all topped by a small, written card. He stares at the whole thing, before picking up a candy. Getting a whiff of it through his sensors. Determining it safe, removing his mask and  popping it in his mouth. Savoring the flavor.

He knows what this is.

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up (because knowing that idiot, it’s an apology rather than what it _looks_ like) but can’t help the jump in his spark when he picks the card up.

“As equals.” It reads, and Wheeljack’s face break into a grin.

It's exactly what it looks like. A courting gift.

From Starscream.

He still wasn’t sure if Starscream would change. Could change. Wasn’t sure if Starscream knew the answer to it either. But he did have his answer.  That Starscream was willing to _try._

It’s all Wheeljack wanted.


End file.
